


Shower Thoughts

by vvenom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvenom/pseuds/vvenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave has hit a low spot, lower than he's ever been, and the last person and the entire universe he thought could help is Karkat Vantas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ive been typing this for a while and i didnt really wanna post i but guess what ahahahaha here it is  
> sorry if it's badly written ???? its just so hard to write davekat because theyre both sooooooo specific as characters and eek idk enjoy

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you where at the doorstep of the worlds biggest douchebag.  
"Dave?" You tap on the door quietly as you stand on your tip toes, attempting to look through the small peephole Dave drilled through his door for some reason. "Are you alive in there? It smells like shit from out here."  
You get a blurry look of the inside of the room from the roughly drilled hole, books tossed open on the ground and notebook paper littering the floor. No sign of the disappearing douche.  
None of you had seen him for a few days, and Rose was beginning to get worried, as well as Terezi, but none of the fuckers actually wanted to be to one to check up on him. Typical. Someone was always making you do the dirty work.  
"Dave, I'm giving you three seconds and then I'm coming in."  
You listen, your ear pressed against the small drilled hole. "One..."  
Nothing. You press harder against the door, putting your full weight on it.  
"Two..."  
Your hand coils around the knob as your body rests against the stiff wooden door.  
"Three!"  
You swing the door open violently, stirring up a small storm of papers and almost breaking one of the hinges. Fucking great, just another repair you where going to have to take care of.  
The room looks so much worse inside than through Dave's peephole, papers literally covering the entire floor. It was creepy, and some of them where taped together in some kind of web on the wall. Why would Dave do this? He always seemed so collected and together with himself when he was around you at least. It makes you shudder, looking around at the ripped and torn piles of paper in the room, and thinking about Dave creating them himself.  
You step slowly through the mess, your feet padding over piles of paper and stacks of books. Every single last paper is covered in meaningless scribbles, words over words upon line after lines. They where completely eligible to you, and you didn't think it was because you where a little rusty on your English.  
As for the books, they where all in terrible condition. Well worn, and well read, they laid tattered and scrambled over the cold concrete flooring. Pages where ripped out of some, and set among piles of notebook paper.  
For a moment, you feel like turning back. Forcing his closer friends, Terezi and Rose, to come deal with this mess, make sense of the environment that is Dave Strider's living quarters.  
It was eerie, blood lacing some of pages of notebook paper and shredded book covers scattering the room. You breath quickens as you reach down to grab one book that seemed to be lit on fire, the charcoal pages fluttering with the blasting air conditioning, ash littering the floor around it.  
"Dave?"  
You tuck the book under your arm as you step past the mess of paper littering the room, walking slowly past the empty bed, the sheet pulled off the mattress and the pillows chucked across the room on the floor.  
The bathroom door is opened slightly, just enough for you to see a broken bottle of some kind spread across the tile.  
You press your palm against the wood, opening it slowly and taking in what you see in front of you.  
There where more bottles, two or three more, and they where lined up next to the porcelain bathtub where none other than Dave Fucking Strider lied himself, another half empty bottle pressed against his chest.  
He was unconscious, and a large cut lined over his cheek and ended somewhere beneath his broken shades.  
You set the book down on the ground beside you as you squat slowly, carefully avoiding the broken glass littering the floor surrounding you, and reach up to his pale face, wrapping your fingers delicately around the splintered sunglasses.  
It was weird, seeing Dave with out his shades. He looked normal, like any other person was, and for some reason, you couldn't decide if you liked it or not.  
He had freckles that painted under his eyes on his upper cheeks, and sprinkled the top of nose. His eyelashes where the same color as his bleached hair, and they where incredibly long, making his face look fair, like a china dolls.  
The messy scar stretched over his cheek and took over half his eyelid. It was nasty to look at, and dried blood was smeared across his forehead and his cheek. It made you worry, looking at how brutal it was, and he's lucky it didn't touch his eye, or he might not have one right now.  
You almost felt bad, looking at his bare face without his permission, but then you snap back to reality. He could be fucking dead.  
You pull yourself over the edge of the bathtub, wrapping your small, plush body around Dave's large, lanky one, and as you reach up to the water knobs and twist them both as far as they can go, you are not expecting the fucking shower head to be on.  
Freezing cold water rains over the both of you, and you sit still as you patiently watch it run over Dave's skin and flood into his open mouth.  
He chokes as he wakes up, coughing water (and maybe blood) all over you and his lap as you wrap your arms around his waist, supporting him as he attempts to sit up.  
"Fucking dammit Dave!" You try not to yell as he regains consciousness but you can feel heat pushing against your cheeks as you look at him, dark circles lining underneath his eyes.  
He sits up and rubs the heels of his palm against his face, digging into the open wound on his cheek even more and causing it to reopen, but he doesn't seem to notice.  
He looks at you up and down, and when you notice his eyes you try so hard not to gasp. They where red, like cherry red. All of the other humans had neutral eye colors, but Dave's... they where beautiful.  
"You ever hear of knocking?" He chokes out sarcastically, water spewing from his mouth.  
And at that very moment five words make you so chronically pissed the fuck off that you almost kill Dave Strider. A second time.  
"Goddammit you stupid shitfucking douche!" Your fist drives into the side of his face and it this point you don't even care if it's going to leave a bruise.  
He winces as you hit him, the first sign of emotion you've ever seen on him, and it feels good to at least know you did something.  
"I was so fucking worried your idiotic bulgelicking ass was dead! Shit, I almost brought Rose in here to carry out your douchey nooksniffiing carcass! And this is the kind of shit you give me? I swear to fucking gog Dave I will-"  
He places his hand over your mouth gently, and it's so unexpected, that you actually shut up.  
"Karkat, I'm hella hungover and this yelly, shouty thing you're doing right now is not helping. Like, at all. Neither is punching me in the face. I would really appreciate if you refrained from doing both of those things right now, and also stopped digging your knee into my hip."  
Your eyes widen with anger at every word that leaks out of the crevice of Dave Strider's mouth, and once he's finished talking, you swat his hand away from your mouth, and step gently out of the bathtub.  
Your wet feet almost slip on the cold tile, and you hear Dave say something to you again but you don't listen. You just wanted to get the fuck out of this mess.  
You where so, so tired of constantly putting out for people who weren't going to appreciate it, and you where definitely tired of the fucking cool kid charade. There was obviously something wrong, something really fucking wrong, and if he wasn't going to address it, than you weren't going to waste your time.  
You left his door open as you stepped into the hallway, water dripping from your hair and seeping through your sweater.  
The hallways where freezing, and you tried your hardest to not glance into any of the vents as you walked.  
You think hard to Dave's bathroom, your mind dancing over every wall and pushing yourself to think hard about the ceiling, but as hard as you tried you couldn't bring yourself to remember if there was an air vent or not.  
You shuddered and flinched at every little sound as you humbly walked back to your living quarters, focusing way to hard on the floor. You prayed he didn't know, that you wouldn't show up to your room and he'd be there. You hated how he watched you constantly, and as you walked you realized you where starting to cry.  
Right now, you didn't know what was more important: your safety, or Dave's. 

* * *

 

Your name is Dave Strider, and you're a little fucked up right now.

As you sit in your bathtub, cold water showering over your scraped and bruised body, you run your hands over your naked face. Your head was a fog of recent events, and past ones too, and you where so mentally tired you just wanted to go down the drain along with the water running over your body. You couldn't think straight for two seconds, and the entire time as you sat there and attempted to sort yourself out, you couldn't stop wishing it would have been anyone but Karkat.

The disappointing look on his face as you tried to slip out of the situation, tried to pretend you weren't half dead in a bathtub and your room wasn't the shredded remains of a crazy person, it sticks in the back of your mind and shrouds your thoughts.  
You weren't crazy, where you? You mean, you didn't think so. You where just a little lost, and you kept reading the same books over and over again that got you through middle school and high school, but they weren't having the same effect. They where pointless now, you weren't sulking through the grubby halls of your public school, you where walking through the empty gray hallways of a fucking meteor in outer space.  
Where was your book for that? Where was your guide to help you crawl out of the deep overbearing hole you've dug yourself into now?  
Here's your answer: there isn't one.  
You picked apart every book, every song on your iPod and tried to put them together into something you can relate to, thinking that maybe if you came across the right combination of words everything would snap back into place, and you could go on pretending you weren't fucked in the head.  
But the more you pried and ripped through every sentence and every lyric the deeper you dug into the realization that this wasn't helping. Nothing was working, and you where going to be stuck in the bottom of this hole for the rest of eternity.  
It was so deep, you couldn't see the light at the top, and at this point you weren't even worried about trying to see it anymore. It didn't exist.  
Around the fifth or sixth day of sifting through the papers scattered across your floor, you discovered you couldn't hang yourself from the vent in your bathroom, so you took the vent off, hoping the shitfaced murder clown would take it as some sort of invitation.  
And you waited.  
You waited in your bathtub with a few (or more) bottles of stolen liquor from Roses room, which you shamelessly stole in the dead of night as she was visiting Kanaya's quarters.  
But instead of getting a visit from your good old neighborhood juggalo, you got a visit from a completely different troll instead.  
So as you sat in your bathtub, pieces of small glass littering your skin and your broken shades discarded somewhere across the clammy tile, cold water still pouring over your scarred body, you hated yourself.  
Hated yourself for acting so goddamn insane, hated yourself for being so fucking stupid, and hated yourself because the only other person that knew besides you, was Karkat Vantas.  
The kid was stressed enough without your crazy cool kid bullshit, and you actually sort of hated yourself more for putting him through what you just did.  
So you pull yourself out of the cold bathtub, and you don't bother to turn the water off. You walk slowly across the glass covered tile, stepping as carefully as you could around the vent, and make your way to the towel rack beside the sink.  
You look in the mirror, which is very noticeably cracked, and examine the scar decorating your cheek and eye.  
You're lucky your drunk self didn't do a good enough job to actually cut your eye out with the broken whiskey bottle neck, as you had originally planned to, but sadly it was extremely obvious it was self inflicted, and even with your shades there was absolutely no way you where going to able to hide it from Rose.  
You pull a band-aid out of the drawer beside you, carefully placing it over your cheek to cover as much of the scar as you could, and then reach for the towel to dry yourself off.  
After a half-assed attempt at cleaning the bathroom, you made way into your bedroom, which you weren't even going to try to work on.  
There where books, burnt bloodied and torn, scattered across the entire floor along with your own ramblings all sketched onto discarded pieces of notebook paper.  
Just looking at the room made you want to hole up again, because you realized Karkat walked through here.  
He saw everything, the paper, the bed, and you.  
You pad over the paper and search for clothes buried under the mess, and eventually put together an outfit of a long sleeve t shirt, a pair of pants, and a discarded pair of old shades. Good enough.  
The hallway is dead quiet when you step into it, which makes you think that it's night time for a moment, but the familiar sound of Roses drunken laugh rings down the empty corridor, putting you at ease.  
Your sneakers padded slowly against the cold grey concrete as you walked, and you prayed that Karkat would open his door.  
Half of you felt like he would make you stay outside, getting some kind of power trip off of you pleading and begging to be in his presence. The other half of you thought he would open the door just to scream at you right there, in front of gog and all his people.  
So when you reach his door, you twist the knob quietly to test to see if it's unlocked, and of course it is. None of the doors had locks except for Kanaya's room, which held a very strong purpose.  
So instead of knocking and feeling the humiliating consequences of rejection, you invite yourself in, shutting the door shut behind you.  
It's quiet and pitch black, and for a moment, you think Karkat isn't even here.  
But as your eyes adjust slightly to the darkness, you realize he is. And so is someone else.  
And there's a faint scent of rotting squirrels and old metal in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy chapter two boop  
> how do u write emotion in second person pov help

"Whoa, shit." You run a nervous hand through your hair as you slam your back against the wooden door. "Sorry, I uh... didn't realize you had company."  
You look him up and down, because you haven't seen him in years, and it's so surreal to you to think he still actually exists.  
He's so tall dude, and his hair covers his head in a giant mess. His horns protrude violently from it, sticking high in the air and scraping the ceiling lightly.  
And his eyes.  
They're bright yellow, almost illuminated in this dark setting, and digging into your being.  
You're scared shitless, and you want to leave so bad, but you feel like if you move he'll kill you right there, and you couldn't do that to Karkat.  
In fact, Karkat looks painfully awkward and conflicted, hunched underneath Gamzee on the floor with his knees pushed into his chest. Gamzee looks threatening over him, and for a second your fear turns to confusion. Weren't they in a, hell you don't know, red relationship or something? The kind of weird troll relationship that didn't hate each other?  
"Yo, aren't you guys, like... in a redrom? Or some shit? Because this doesn't seem-"  
"Motherfucking leave."  
His voice is raspy, but strong, and it aches through your bones as he speaks. You don't want to leave, Karkat looks terrified and you're almost 200 percent positive he's crying. But you don't want to make things worse for him, this was his weird troll thing that you didn't understand.  
"Okay."  
You walk out the door slowly, never taking your eyes off of Gamzee's, and even from behind your shades, you know he knows.  
So you wait, you sit yourself down in front of Karkats door and press your ear against the door.  
You don't hear anything big, just quiet shuffling and the occasional whimper.  
What the fuck was even happening? It drove you insane to just be sitting here, when you had no idea what was going on in there. Maybe you needed to get someone, someone other than you could probably do a hell of a lot more than what you where doing.  
But then you thought about Karkat, quietly walking through your room and finding you in your bathtub, and how he went through it all by himself. He didn't tell anyone about how fucked you where, so right now, you where going to the same for him.  
As you sat, ear pressed against the stiff wooden door, you thought back the air vent laying discarded on your bathroom floor. You thought about how tall Gamzee was, how horrifying he looked standing in the dark of Karkat's bedroom. This guy was a serial killer, and you where literally inviting him in.  
You shudder as you glance around the hall, seeing four or five air vents just within a thirty foot radius of you.  
There has to be a room on the meteor that doesn't have air vents, right? You mean hell, it would be stuffy in there, but being hot would be a hell of a lot better than being watched by a murderous shitfaced reincarnation of It.  
You adjust your body and try to get comfortable, whatever they where doing in there was taking a hell of a long time.  
You waited, breathing in and out softly as you let your head fall back softly against the wooden door. You just wanted to sort things out, that's all you wanted to do. You wanted to apologize, to tell him you where sorry for such a fucking ass, and tell him how grateful you where for him saving your goddamn life.  
But this whole situation just kept falling out from underneath you, and no matter what you did you kept making things worse.  
You don't remember falling asleep, but your glad you did. You haven't gotten actual sleep in quite a while.

* * *

  
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are fucking pissed.  
As you stare at the universes largest douche, asleep on the ground outside your door, your body radiates pissed. You are the personification of pissed. The word pissed alone doesn't even describe the level of pissed you are right now.  
His shades ride up on his face slightly, exposing a blood stained band-aid on one cheek and a massive bruise on the other. For a moment, you almost feel bad for smacking him upside the head, but then you remember how monumentally pissed you where.  
"DAVE."  
"Fuck!"  
He jerks awake violently, his glasses flying across the cold concrete ground and his face lifting towards you. He looks shocked, like genuinely, and it makes you smug to know you're the only person on this entire meteor to know what Dave Strider's facial expressions look like.  
He reaches for his glasses and pulls them back over his face before standing up beside you, and you can feel the awkward tension as he runs a nervous hand through his hair.  
"Hey."  
Hey? Fucking hey? After all that bullshit you've endured in the past few hours he going to come to you and say hey?  
"WOW, FUCKING HEY DAVE. HEY BRO. HEY."  
He looks at you, emotionless behind thick glasses, and you wanted to take them and snap them in half.  
As you stand in the doorway of your room, you remember this area is covered in air vents, and on a whim you grab the collar of Dave's shirt and pull him violently into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.  
You breathe in and out slowly, trying hard not to loose your ever-loving shit in front of Dave, until you realize you're pushed right against him in the small walkway that leads to your door.  
He grins slightly as he looks down at you, and you can feel bright red push against your cheeks.  
"Damn, Kit-Kat. I just came to talk."  
You push him off of you hard, and it knocks yourself a few feet into your bedroom.  
"Fuck you! You know I was the only one that vouched to check on your idiotic ass because no one else wanted to, and then I find you fucking dead in a bathtub covered in blood and surrounded by a fucking mess! And then you have the goddamn gall to come into my room unannounced and ask me about my relationships at a very sensitive time may I add! And ON TOP OF THAT YOU SLEEP RIGHT OUTSIDE MY FUCKING DOOR AND WHEN I LET YOU IN THE FIRST THING YOU DO IS HIT ON ME? WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING ANGLE!"  
Your boy shakes as you huff in and out violently across the room from him, you where on fire, your whole body pulsing with heat and as you looked at him, standing void of emotion in your doorway, you couldn't help but get angrier. What did he even come here to do? Try to talk you out of telling Rose? Because fuck getting into that, there was enough drama on this meteor without Rose and Dave fighting.  
He stands there, watching you and waiting for you to calm down, but you can't. You cannot believe the audacity, to put you through something like that and just waltz in, expecting you to forget. So you wait for his shitty half assed sarcastic remark, only thinking up a new rant in your head. You where oh-so-tired of Dave getting away with all the shit that he did, and you where going to let him know.  
"I just came to say I was sorry."  
You pause. "W-what?"  
He sighs, and you wish you could see his face right now, you wish you knew how he really felt.  
As if he could read you mind, he pulls his shades down off of his face, rubbing his eyes gently to avoid putting pressure on his scar and his bruise.  
When he looks at you, you're so shocked that you gasp once again, despite trying your hardest not to. Tears roll down his face and over his cheeks, which are bright red. His eyes are painted with dark circles, and as tears pool on top of them, he takes a few steps closer to you.  
"Karkat, I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone about Gamzee, I just wanted to apologize to you, and I didn't want you to lock me out and not listen to me. I'll go now."  
And just like that he leaves. He turns around slowly, setting his shades back over his face, and closes the door behind his as he exits.  
And your left in your empty room, thinking about how you are probably the only person in the universe to see Dave Strider cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't as horribly written as the other two wow enjoy

You hadn't seen Dave in a week, and quite honestly you had forgotten about it completely until Rose knocked on your door just now.   
"Karkat? Terezi said this is where you live..."  
Shit.  
You threw the covers off your bed as you stumbled half awake across the room. Has she seen Dave? Has she been to check on him?  
"Um..." You press your body against the door as your hand wraps tightly around the cold metal knob. "Yeah?"  
"Can you please open the door?"  
Honestly, opening the door was the last thing you wanted to do. You where in a pair of human boxers and a t shirt, and in no condition for company.   
"Please."  
Her voice sounds a tad bit desperate, which is uncharacteristic for someone like Rose, so as you pull the door open slowly a melancholy sigh escapes your lips.   
"Hi."  
Her eyes are somewhat swollen, and her black lipstick is a tad smeared, but you don't point it out.   
"Hello. Do you know where Dave is living now?"  
You brows furrow into a look of confusion and for a moment you think this might be some sort of elaborate prank. "Do you not know where he lives?"  
She sighs as her hands raise to rest on her hips. "No, I don't. He thinks it's funny to move his quarters every time I find them."  
Ah. Hence the peephole.   
"I've been looking for him all day," She continues. "I still don't know where he's at."  
Your hand slips from the doorknob to rub the back of your neck and your mind replays last weeks happenings on repeat in your head. What was the best thing to do here?   
"I..." You grit your teeth as a lie formulates in your head. "I went to check on him again after you guys got me to last time, he wasn't there. Guess I'm in on the joke too."  
She nods, her eyes wide as she catches her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Well." Her hands fall to her side, defeated as she talks. She knows you're lying, and you can tell she does, but she's too polite to call you out.   
It's terrible, seeing Rose like this, and it almost makes you want to expose Dave right then and there. But as your mind runs over his bare face, his posture as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom with tears running down his face, you kept your mouth shut. That was something personal he shared with you, and you needed to keep it personal.   
"I'm sorry Rose."  
She smiles halfheartedly at you as she steps away from your doorway slowly. "It's okay."  
You shut the door behind you slowly, and your heart sinks in your chest as you hear her lone footsteps fall down the barren hallway.   
It made you so mad, thinking of Rose so torn up over a piece of shit like Dave.   
Why the fuck couldn't he just own up to himself and see her? He needed help, it was obvious, and it was obvious she was the perfect one to help him.   
She cared so much, and he didn't even respect her enough to see her.   
He made a joke out it in fact, moving room to room to escape her mother-like care.   
No one cared for you like that, and in a way you envied him, and you hated the fact he pushed her away as much as he did.   
You feel your face grow hot in anger, and you don't even have time to tell yourself not to as you swung your door open and power-walked down the hall to Dave's room.   
Who did he think he was? Did he think it was okay to disappear for almost a month and worry everyone to death? Because it isn't, and you where going to let him know.   
As you approached his door you didn't even take the time to count before barging in.  
Surprisingly, it was clean, the discarded papers completely absent and the bed nice and made.   
He sat on the floor in front of a human laptop, his glasses pushed up in his hair only to be pulled back down as you enter.   
"Bro, do you know how to fucking kno-"  
"YES I KNOW HOW TO FUCKING KNOCK. IF I WANTED TO I WOULD HAVE."  
He's wearing a t shirt and ripped jeans, his hair a mess on top of his head and wisps of it dance around the edges of his glasses.   
Its only then that you become self conscious, realizing you're only in your black undershirt and boxers, but you don't care. You're pissed.   
"DID YOU KNOW THAT ROSE HAS BEEN FUCKING WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU? SHE'S BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU ALL DAY DAMMIT. SHE EVEN CAME TO MY ROOM TO SEE IF YOU HAD BEEN TO SEE ME, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? DO YOU NOT CARE ABOUT HER AT ALL YOU-"  
"Karkat."  
You stopped yelling as you notice Dave's shades removed from his face, and you follow his eyes to the ceiling.   
A large air vent sat directly above you, and you froze as you stared into the darkness hiding behind the metal grate.  
You couldn't see anything, but you definitely heard something. The metal creaked eerily as it left, rattling through the walls as he climbed away.   
You couldn't tell, but your breath had quickened, and your legs weren't supporting you as well as they had been earlier.   
"Karkat, oh my god," You don't pay attention as Dave pushes himself off the ground, walking over to the door of his bedroom and slamming it behind you. "Calm down. It's okay."  
But it wasn't, it wasn't okay. As far as black relationships went, they could get pretty intense, but this was past that. It was predatory.   
Anxiety coursed through your veins and your could barely hear Dave's rambling as your heartbeat drummed behind your ears.   
He wasn't going to kill you, he felt like he owned you, and he was too deranged to do that. But he had no problem making an example of someone, and you knew well who that someone was going to be.   
This was strike two, he had warned you to stay away from Dave the first time but you didn't listen. Why couldn't you have just stayed away?  
You had just gotten Dave Strider killed.   
You felt hands snake around your waist and under your knees, but you didn't pay attention as you felt your body lift off the ground.  
He placed you on the bed, and you curled up into a fetal position as you watched him walk into his bathroom.  
You heard the scrape of metal, and a few loud banging noises over the course of 10 to 15 minutes, but you zoned out too much to care.   
You had just saved Dave not a week ago, and you now you had killed him again. You where sick of yourself, all you had to do was stay in your room. That's all you had to do.   
He came out of the bathroom, a vent grating in one hand and a cabinet door in another, and you watched as he laid both on his couch and pushed in underneath the grate by his door.   
The sofa seemed heavy, but he moved it with little trouble, and as he hopped on top on the couch cushions and began unscrewing the air vent you noticed how muscular Dave really was.   
He wasn't "totally ripped" as he liked to put it sometimes, but he was very well toned, his slender body stretched towards the ceiling.   
He drops the second grate as you curl into his covers, and you watch him hop off the couch and jog into the bathroom, coming back with a half broken sword.   
"What the fuck are you doing Dave?"  
He doesn't answer you as he sit on the couch, taking the broken sword and drilling a hole in each corner of the plank of wood.  
He stands back up on the couch, placing the cabinet door over the air vent, and forcibly pushing the screws through the drilled holes to fit into the air vent.   
Once he's done, he hops off the couch, leaving his sword on the ground as he pushes the couch in front of the small wooden door in the corner of his room.   
"There." He states, planting his hands on his hips as he looks up at his work from behind his shades. "Juggalo proof."  
You sit up on his bed, the covers draping over your shoulders and wrapping around your waist.   
Somehow, the bathroom cabinet door seemed to completely cover the air vent, and Dave drilled the holes perfectly to fit the drill holes in the ceiling.   
It made you feel safer, knowing he couldn't see your every movement. But even then, you where still terrified, and there was only one other person you knew that you knew could relate.   
"Maybe we should get Terezi."  
His eyebrow raises from behind his shades as he stands in the center of the room. "No."  
"Excuse me?"  
"I said no."  
Your brows furrow and you feel your face grow hot as you stare at the worlds biggest nooksniffer from underneath his bed covers.   
"What the fuck does that mean?"  
"It means, this is already too much for the two of us to handle, and dragging Terezi into it isn't going to make anything better. I don't want her to get hurt because our dumbfuck decisions."  
Wait. "Our?"  
He sighs, a nervous hand running through his hair. "I may have like, provoked it I guess. When I was like, totally fucked. I don't know what happened."  
It was your turn to sigh now.   
You couldn't even be mad honestly, you where too tired to deal with this right now.   
Gamzee was enough to take on on his own, but adding Dave to the mix made the the situation ten times more stressful.   
"I'm going back to sleep."  
You fall into Dave's bed as you say it, feeling safer in his room now than you did your own.   
He grins, walking towards his computer which sits on the ground in front of the bed. "Did you just wake up?"  
"Shut the fuck up."  
He laughs, and it's the first time you've ever heard Dave genuinely laugh. You think about it as he sits on the ground in front of the bed, and the sound rings through your head as you doze off.   
His laugh sounds like Christmas.


End file.
